


hungry hearts eat secrets

by zombiekittiez



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gratuitous use of song lyrics, Happy Ending, Kinda fluff, M/M, Panic Attack, Yamaguchi is a good friend, but not really, first year dynamics year 2, hinata is just really confused, kagehina endgame, kageyama is a mess, kind of a band au, kinda angst, lots of cussing, minor HinaYachi, ok maybe a lot of angst, tsukki is a terrible friend, tsukki yachi friendship, tsukkiyama endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-03-25 21:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13843251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiekittiez/pseuds/zombiekittiez
Summary: So he just hadn’t talked about it at first. And then more time passed and Tsukishima just… never asked. How are things at home? How are your parents? You should have me over some time, I’ve never seen your place. It became a game. How long will he go before he asks me a personal question?It’s been a year and a half. Yamaguchi is still waiting.





	1. Kageyama panics

**Author's Note:**

> Rotating POV with short-ish chapters. tsukkiyama kagehina endgame. Probably.

Kageyama likes his team just fine. They’re nothing like Kitagawa Daiichi; someone is always there to try for his tosses. They like training extra and they like training extra with _him_ \- even his upperclassmen, which makes him hopeful that everything that had gone wrong before was because Oikawa is just kind of a shit. His apologies don’t choke behind his tongue, a clot of anger keeping them down when he knows he’s behaving badly. Sure, he’s got a temper. He’s a hot-blooded type. He’s got a mean smile and a rude vocabulary. He knows what he’s like. Still, overall, he likes them and they like him and it’s going just peachy. It makes sense he’d maybe like some better than others. Tsukishima can eat a dick. Sugawara is a fluffy haired kindness with a mean karate chop and the right voice for shouting that doesn’t get all shrill and annoying and Kageyama respects the hell out of that. Hinata’s his favorite, like that’s a fucking surprise. He’s loud and bright and always up Kageyama’s ass about throwing tosses and not giving up and being the best to the top of Japan. He’s like a little orange bunsen burner and Kageyama’s blood _boils._ They go to fucking nationals. He can’t say it any other way. Whenever he repeats it, Hinata stamps his foot and tells him to quit being so vulgar but he can’t help it. Fucking nationals. It just sounds right. Amazing. First year. Bonding. Medals hung over his bed. Team pictures where he actually looks happy instead of like someone’s stepping down hard on the back of his shoe. 

Second year is an adjustment- new faces, bigger roles. No Suga to lean on to get a feel for the team. Ennoshita takes over as Captain and actually, yeah, he’s the reliable type. He slides into a Daichi sized hole like he’s made to be there and taps Yamaguchi for his Vice Captain in just about the only power play that might actually get Tsukishima to quit being a total fuckwad all day every day. They went to _fucking nationals,_ okay? There’s school and training and practice games and endurance drills and volleyball volleyball volleyball. Everything he’s ever wanted in his life right here for the taking. 

It's early in the year still. He’s a little halfway through afternoon practice, taking a break against the wall beside the sliding doors, head tipped back. His water bottle is empty but Yachi is making the rounds and it’s easier just to wait. One of the first years asks Ennoshita if he can open the doors and try to get a cross breeze; it’s early enough in the year that fall is still leaning into summer and the air is cool without a bite. Narita helps him pull it open just as Kageyama opens his eyes. The tangerine gold of the sunset lands right where it belongs; square against Hinata where he smiles at Yachi over the water bottles and she smiles back. A love story in highlight and Kageyama wants to puke his guts out. 

_Oh,_ Kageyama thinks. Fuck.

But Kageyama is Kageyama and he puts volleyball first. He’d tossed to Kunimi, the lazy bastard, and Kindaichi, that asshole. He tosses to Tsukishima even though the first time they’d met he’d seriously almost knocked that guy’s teeth in and has half regretted not following through with it ever since. Tossing to Hinata and focusing on the game ten minutes after having a sexuality crisis is fine, he guesses. When he was seven and a girl on the playground had tried to corner him under the Geodesic Dome to give him a kiss and he’d fled in terror, his mom had laughed and laughed. One of these days, she told him, you’re gonna get married and I’m gonna tell this at your wedding. Kageyama told his mother he was planning to marry a volleyball. Really, Hinata’s the next best thing. 

When Kitagawa Daiichi staged a coup that forced their coach to bench Kageyama, he’d been fine. He’d sat down the rest of the game and just watched while they were trampled, holding out the hope that they’d come crawling back. Sorry, coach. Sorry, Kageyama. We fucked up. Screwed the pooch. Help us out, genius. Ah, that had been dumb though. Even Kageyama pays enough attention in history class to know countries prefer the chaos and violence of revolution instead of staying under someone truly unfit to rule. He’d made it on the bus and back to school and halfway home before it had hit him all the way. The scouts from Shiratorizawa had seen him. Aoba Johsai, powerhouse second choice was off the table. The only thing he’d ever been good at and he’d _ruined_ it. Google said it was a panic attack, but he’d felt like he was dying. Terror so strong that he couldn’t fucking walk, barely breathing- managed to sit at a bus stop and shake and retch for twenty minutes until he could start up again on soft knees. Just tired, he’d told his mom. 

In the end, it’s one of the first years enthusing to Hinata about his jump and his quick and his reflexes. Hinata soaks it up broadly, laughing in a way that resembles two idiots from Tokyo, according to Tsukishima’s dark muttering. 

“It’s because I trust him!” Hinata says brightly. 

But Kageyama knows he can’t be trusted. A volleyball hits the floor over where Noya is practicing receives and the sound makes him flinch. When he leans back into the toss, his hands are shaking. The ball goes wild. 

“What the hell was that?” Tsukishima snaps, landing back on his heels lightly from the botched combination. Kageyama can’t talk. His vision swims, narrows into a tunnel. A hand closes on his wrist and he’s being pulled outside and up the stairs to the clubroom. He stumbles as he goes, but Yamaguchi is strong and nearly as tall as he is. A measured yank gets him back to his feet till he’s in the clubroom. It hurts. His chest is so tight. Yamaguchi closes the door and turns off the light. He settles, cross legged next to him. The room is mostly dark- the sun is nearly gone. He’d nearly made it through practice all the way. What a fucking mess. 

Yamaguchi lifts Kageyama’s hand and places it flat against Yamaguchi’s chest. “Breathe when I breathe,” he instructs, looking down at the phone in his other hand. Kageyama can’t breathe, but he tries it anyway. In for five. Hold two. Out for five. It takes about thirty minutes this time to calm down, but it feels better somehow being someplace that isn’t a public bus stop by himself. His hand feels nice on someone else’s heart- beat slow and sure. Kageyama pulls his hand back eventually and the two of them just sit in the dark for a minute. 

“I’m okay,” Kageyama says finally. “We can go back now.” 

Yamaguchi shakes his head. “Better just wait till they come out,” he says in his Vice Captain voice. “Practice is almost over anyway. You don’t want them to make a fuss, right?” 

Kageyama nods hesitantly. 

“You ever had one of those before?” Yamaguchi asks. “A panic attack.” 

“Once,” Kageyama admits. Yamaguchi hums a little. “Did you just Google it?” 

“Maybe. Did it help?” Yamaguchi admits, tucking his phone in his pocket. 

“I think so. Uh. Thanks.” Kageyama stares at his hands. The trembling is nearly gone. 

“How likely are you to have another one of those at practice?” Yamaguchi asks. 

Kageyama shrugs. “I’ll take care of it,” he says reassuringly. “I’m just having a hard time. It won’t affect the team.” Yamaguchi scoffs and turns back to his phone, shooting off a quick text. 

“I didn’t ask you any of those things,” he says blandly, getting up to his feet. “Can you get up now?” He holds out a hand that Kageyama takes, pulling himself to his feet with a little grunt. 

“You’re stronger than you look,” Kageyama says. 

“Doesn’t that just mean that you think I look weak?” Yamaguchi asks, amused. “Get your bag, I’m taking you home.” 

“It’s a long walk,” Kageyama admits, closing his locker. On the way down the stairs, his left knee gives out like some kind of stupid baby animal or something and Yamaguchi has to hook an arm around his chest from behind and haul him up a little closer to the rail so he doesn’t eat pavement. The brief moment his back meets Yamaguchi’s chest is warm and firm and nice enough that he figures that volleyball hasn’t got fuck all to do with his thing for Hinata. He’s just regular old fashioned gay. 

“Hate to break it to you, but you’re not taking a long walk anywhere, Kags.” 

“Kags,” Kageyama echoes. 

“Nicknames are kind of my thing,” Yamaguchi admits. “Do you hate it?” Kageyama shakes his head. “Good. You can crash at my place and brush out your uniform for tomorrow. This way. Try not to keel over.” 

Yamaguchi’s place is close- it’s a tiny apartment complex edging a nicer neighborhood with bigger houses with yards. “Tsukki lives that way,” Yamaguchi explains, stopping to check the mail. He opens the door and leads the way in, turning on the light as he goes. It’s a tiny one room apartment with an attached bathroom- just a little western style shower, no tub. The place is neat and there is little clutter. 

“You live by yourself,” Kageyama says slowly, taking in the space. Yamaguchi sets him on a cushion on the floor by the low table in the center of the room. 

“It’s a little cramped for a family of four,” Yamaguchi says lightly, heading to the corner kitchen. The stove has only two burners next to the small sink. A large bag of rice sits on top of the mini fridge. “I’m not a good cook,” Yamaguchi warns, turning on the burner. 

He’s a liar. The stir fry is very good and none of the veggies are overcooked. Kageyama kind of wants to pick out all the mushrooms but figures that would be impolite. Yamaguchi offers to let Kageyama have first shower but Kageyama declines; he wants to give himself the maximum amount of time to recover so he doesn’t fall down naked and wet somewhere and have to be rescued. Yamaguchi’s hospitality probably has limits. While the shower runs, Kageyama amuses himself by looking around the room for clues. Who the hell is Yamaguchi? Will knowing him better mean he can toss better to him? There’s a good chance he’ll move up to regular now. He wants to be prepared to connect on the court. What does Yamaguchi even like? Volleyball? Tsukishima? Meatbuns? Mushrooms, apparently. There’s a Shiba Inu wall calendar up by the door. It’s three days behind. There’s a 3DS on the table with the latest Pokemon game. Post it notes are stuck in odd places- reminders that ground pork is on sale Tuesday and to go to bed before eleven, Tadashi. Had he known Yamaguchi’s first name? He’s sure he’s heard it before, but he’d probably forgotten. Too busy being a stellar teammate, clearly. Hinata was right. This is why he doesn’t have any fucking friends. 

“Your turn,” Yamaguchi says, toweling off his hair. “My clothes are gonna fit weird, but it’s better than sleeping in your sweaty practice clothes. Hang your uniform in the bathroom and the steam will get most of the wrinkles out.” 

After a perfunctory if somewhat cramped shower Kageyama comes out in pajamas that sit just a little tightly around his chest and legs. Yamaguchi’s build is slimmer and it shows. Yamaguchi is finishing the room set up, having pushed his little table in front of the stove and spread out two futons that just about fit with little room between them. 

“Kind of a flashback to training camp,” Yamaguchi says dryly. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Kageyama says self-consciously, looking around the room. Something about how eminent this impromptu sleepover is starts to get to him a little. The closet that stores the futons is open and mostly empty. “Is that a guitar?” Kageyama asks, interest piqued. “Do you play?”

“A little,” Yamaguchi admits, shaking out the sheets and doling out pillows. 

“Can I hear?” Kageyama asks. Yamaguchi pauses. “I don’t know anything about music. If you’re shitty, I won’t be able to tell, probably.” Yamaguchi glances at him for a second before straightening. He seems to note the tightness still in Kageyama’s shoulders and gives himself a little nod. 

“Sure,” Yamaguchi says. “I’ll play something before bed.” 

Yamaguchi thinks for a long moment when he’s settled on the floor. From the way he holds it, he’s practiced and relaxed, like just before he hits a particularly good serve. Kageyama files this away for later. He can do this, maybe. Be good at volleyball and okay with people too.

“I’m not a good musician,” Yamaguchi warns. 

He’s a liar. Maybe this is a thing too, thinking he’s bad at things he can do well. The music is soft and comes in murmurs. Yamaguchi’s voice is steady and sweet, lilting through the lyrics. 

_City of stars… are you shining just for me?_

Kageyama claps politely when Yamaguchi finishes and the other boy laughs as he gets up to put the instrument away. 

“I thought you said you were bad at English,” Kageyama says, settling into one of the futons as Yamaguchi hits the lights. 

“Tsukki liked that song a while back,” Yamaguchi says. “I heard it enough to get it down.” He hesitates. “Tsukki doesn’t know where I live,” Yamaguchi admits to the dark room. “Or that I live alone. Or that I play guitar.” 

“You want it to stay that way?” Kageyama asks, just to be clear. 

“You got it, Kags.” Despite the light words there’s a little undercurrent to his words. Caution. Mistrust. An empty spot where the volleyball lands. 

“Okay,” Kageyama agrees easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is "City of Stars" Gavin James.


	2. Yamaguchi makes a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the updates won't be this quick, but it was ready to go so I was like, fuck it.

This one time in grade school Yamaguchi was over at Tsukishima’s house, just listening to music and hanging out like they sometimes did. There were probably snacks and manga and back issues of Volleyball Monthly involved. He doesn’t remember everything, he was only about ten or eleven. Tsukishima had turned the music up and sang, something he almost never did. Yamaguchi had told him his voice was great. He had such good taste in music and couldn’t he play piano? Amazing. Tsukishima had flushed but hadn’t even told him to shut up like Yamaguchi was expecting. No, he actually turned the music down after the song ended and started _talking._ He talked about the band and about the chord progressions and the musical trends and the lyrical juxtaposition and how he and Yamaguchi should start a band, yeah, that would be so damn awesome. Yamaguchi had gone home and later that week when his parents asked what he wanted for his birthday, he’d asked for a guitar and some lessons. It was a secret, he decided. He’d get real good and he’d play for Tsukishima and maybe he’d even say Yamaguchi was being cool for once. 

Thing is, when Yamaguchi made a joke maybe a few days later about picking the name for their band, the look that Tsukishima turned on him was so blankly polite that Yamaguchi lost his nerve. And then Yamaguchi remembered that the things that were important to him- being saved from bullies, learning his first receive in a backyard with a borrowed big brother, a sleepover with hot cocoa and a telescope away from his screaming parents and their broken crockery- these things were not also important to Tsukishima. Maybe in some vague way Yamaguchi was, as a person. He had carved a niche for himself. Close but not too close. Familiar but not too familiar. A buffer and a barrier, an umbrella in particularly nasty weather. But like an umbrella, most of the time he was just kind of there as a back up plan, should the music and the sarcasm fail in some way. In case of rain.

In the end, Yamaguchi took two years of lessons. He’d never played for anyone outside his music teacher. It was a nice little secret, the kind that doesn't hurt anybody. He’s not sure what made him share it. Except maybe he does know. 

Yamaguchi doesn’t like lying to people. He has a hard enough time expressing himself confidently with the truth, for one thing. Weirdly, he might be a little similar to Kageyama in that way. That simple minded guy just isn’t built for deceit or subterfuge outside the court. Straightforward. Well, it’s not like Yamaguchi’s not used to that kind of talking with Tsukki. He feels a little bad about asking Kageyama to keep secrets, but quid pro quo and all that. 

Thing is, he didn’t even mean to keep his living situation a secret. He just hadn’t wanted to talk about it at first. His parents fought like nothing he’d ever heard outside of movies- slap down, drag out fights. The cops came a couple of times and he’d always had to answer the door then, this skinny, tired kid in pajamas explaining that everything was really okay, sorry. They divorced like they fought; slow and loud and public. By the time it went through, they’d both moved on to neat little families in other places. You’ll want to stay nearby, sweetheart. You’re just starting school and you’ll miss your friends. We’ll pay for a place, till you decide what to do for college. We just want the best for you! 

His freckles are his mother’s. His sharp little eyes are his father’s. How could either of them look in his face and see anything but failure? Makes sense that getting rid of him is the first time they agree on anything. 

So he just hadn’t talked about it at first. And then more time passed and Tsukishima just… never asked. How are things at home? How are your parents? You should have me over some time, I’ve never seen your place. It became a game. How long will he go before he asks me a personal question? 

It’s been a year and a half. Yamaguchi is still waiting. 

Yamaguchi makes enough bento for two in the morning and they get there even earlier than Hinata. He's not much of a morning person, but he feels responsible for Kageyama somehow and manages. Once they get there, Yamaguchi unlocks the gym with the spare key and they set to work putting up the nets and wheeling out the ball cart. 

“Thanks for yesterday,” Kageyama says suddenly, bowing low. 

“It’s nothing, really.” Yamaguchi says automatically. 

“You were nice.” Kageyama says, head still low. “And I needed it.” 

Yamaguchi searches nervously for something to say. His mind is blank. He reaches out instead, putting a hand lightly on Kageyama’s shoulder. “We’re teammates, Kags.” 

“And friends. If you’re going to keep calling me that.” Kageyama says, straightening up. 

“Right.” Yamaguchi smiles. 

“Want to practice some spikes?” Kageyama asks, hefting the ball. 

“Hell yeah,” Yamaguchi breaks into a grin. 

Ennoshita must have given the team some kind of talk because other than some overly cautious looks they act pretty normally, for them. Hinata _hovers_ but when practice is smooth and the tosses come properly, he settles down. Hinata plays with his whole heart always. It would never cross his mind that someone else might not be the same way. 

“Vice Captain duty includes babysitting now, I guess.” Tsukishima grabs a water bottle from the table next to Yamaguchi, eyes still scanning the court. “Did you do arts and crafts? He seems better now.” Yamaguchi half smiles. 

“Something like that,” he answers. 

“Any idea what set it off?” Tsukishima asks disinterestedly. It does not fool Yamaguchi. 

“No,” Yamaguchi lies. “And you’re not going to bother him about it in case it leads to another one. I mean it, Tsukki. They’re rough.” 

Tsukishima pauses, water bottle halfway to his mouth. “I wasn’t going to,” he says finally. “I’m not that bad.” Yamaguchi rolls his eyes and heads back toward the court. He knows Tsukishima and he _is_ that bad.

About two thirds of the way through first year, Yamaguchi had nervously announced that he was going to start eating with the other first years during lunch to help them review a little before exams. This close to nationals, they had to keep their grades up to keep from missing practice or the whole team was going to pay. Yachi would be there so Tsukishima wouldn’t even have to talk if he didn’t want to, but if he didn’t want to eat lunch alone he was going to have to deal with it. Tsukishima had then eaten lunch alone for two weeks out of spite before joining in- just long enough to punish Yamaguchi for giving ultimatums. He’d been expecting it, but it still stung a bit like it always did. The day Tsukishima’d finally given in, Kageyama and Hinata had gone down for drinks. Yamaguchi had come back from the breadline that day, in the mood for melon pan, and opened the door to see Tsukishima solving a particularly difficult problem for Yachi with ease, a little half smile on his face as he worked leaning over into her space. Tsukishima hated being in other people's spaces. Yachi was watching him, eyes wide and focused on that handsome profile, color high on her cheeks. And it didn’t matter because Yamaguchi’s not stupid, he knows how she feels about Hinata so it wasn’t even like he was hopeful or anything, it just. Felt deliberate, like part of his punishment for speaking out of turn again. 

Why do I even do this to myself, he’d wondered. If he tried even a quarter less they could fall into classmates and teammates and casual friends and Tsukishima wouldn’t even have these kinds of openings anymore. But that was a stupid question. He’d always known why he’s the way he is with Tsukishima. When he was thirteen, there had been a rare moment of niceness at home- his mother had worn lipstick, always a good sign. They’d listened to the radio and he’d helped her make nikujaga for dinner. 

“Mom,” he’d asked, peeling potatoes. “What do you do if you meet somebody who's perfect?” 

She’d laughed. “Marry them.” 

It’s not like Yamaguchi can’t see all the things that are wrong with Tsukishima. It’s just that they don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Tsukishima isn’t flawless, he’s just perfect. Perfect for Yamaguchi. 

“You have trouble aiming your power serves,” Kageyama says bluntly after practice, derailing his thoughts. “And your spikes don’t angle well either. You haven’t got much control.” 

Yamaguchi quirks an eyebrow. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” he says, reaching for the stray balls in the corner of the gym, the first years scampering to put away the net. Tsukishima, as usual, has found the least intensive job- holding the door to the storage shed propped open for everyone else. Kageyama leans on the broom a moment. 

“We could practice, on Sunday. Since you have a gym key.” Kageyama’s gaze is neutral. Yamaguchi thinks a little meanly that it must be in the cool type rule book not to smile and say something nice in the same sentence or else they lose their street cred. It _is_ nice, what Kageyama is offering- probably the difference between using Narita and Yamaguchi in an official match, actually, will be how well he works with Kageyama’s tosses. 

“Just…” Kageyama drops his eyes to the floor. “Can you not say anything to Hinata about it?” 

It should be funny, worrying about Hinata’s annoyance when he finds that Kageyama’s practicing more with someone else on the team, a little volleyball cheating, but Yamaguchi doesn’t feel like laughing. Stupid secrets, kept to hide bigger ones. He gets it. 

“Sure, Kags,” Yamaguchi agrees. 

The first Sunday is the worst because Yamaguchi’s body has become accustomed to having one day a week where he lays around and sleeps till noon. He’s half dead till Kageyama gets a hold of him and then he’s just dead period, full stop. Spiking drills and serving drills and aiming and his arms are like rubber when he finally flops down on the steps to catch his breath after locking up. 

“You’re a demon,” Yamaguchi tells him admiringly. “I guess you always train this hard, even on your days off, huh?” 

Kageyama nods, then hesitates. “What do you usually do on Sundays?” He asks politely. 

“Grocery shopping. Homework. Sometimes I play guitar.” Kageyama perks up a little; the kind of interest Yamaguchi usually only notices whenever Kageyama gets to see another setter at play. “It’s not that interesting,” Yamaguchi assures him. “I have to go through the flyer and find everything I need for oyakodon.” He eyes Kageyama sideways. “Do you like oyakodon?” 

“I’m not picky,” Kageyama says. “Want some company?” 

Yamaguchi shrugs. “It’s just as easy to make two.” 

Kageyama, after a shower and some street clothes, gets really focused on making the grocery list. He pulls the recipe up on his phone and compares it to the listed prices, making careful notes of what to look for. 

“Why are you so into this?” Yamaguchi asks when he finishes cleaning up. 

Kageyama shrugs. “It’s like a scavenger hunt.” 

“You like those?” Yamaguchi asks absently, checking his fridge. “Ah, I have a lot of eggs still. You can take them off the list.” 

“You’ll want them later, they’re cheap as fuck.” Kageyama corrects him. “And I don’t know. I never did one before.” 

“Not even in elementary school?” Yamaguchi asks, checking the expiration date on his almond milk. 

“Nobody ever wanted me on their team,” Kageyama says. 

So Yamaguchi takes Kageyama grocery shopping. It’s actually…. kind of cute. He’s so serious about it, cheeks flushed just enough to give away the fact that this is a fun activity for him because he’s never done something like this with a friend. Even Tsukishima’s gone shopping with Yamaguchi once or twice, but it hadn’t been like this. The cashier notices their enthusiasm and beams.

“Running errands for your Mom?” She asks Yamaguchi as he pays. 

“Yep,” He agrees, smiling. 

“That’s so nice of you,” she comments. 

“Why’d you lie?” Kageyama asks once they’re outside. He carries half the bags, which is nice, too. 

“Hm? Oh, about my Mom? It was easier than telling a big long story when she was just being polite.” Kageyama doesn’t say anything. “You’d have told her anyway, huh?” 

“If she didn’t want to know,” Kageyama replies, “she shouldn’t have asked.” 

After they eat, Kageyama offers to do the dishes. 

“You don’t have to,” Yamaguchi says automatically. “You don’t live here.” Kageyama just picks up both their plates. 

“You cooked,” he says simply. “You can play something or whatever.” He turns toward the sink like he doesn’t care either way. Yamaguchi is, well, kind of flattered. It makes him self conscious. He’s a little glad Kageyama is looking away when he starts to strum over the running water and sing. Kageyama shuts off the faucet and leans against the sink, listening without turning around.

_And I will hang my head, hang my head low_

After that, he heads home. Yamaguchi is in bed by ten o’clock if you can believe it. Hell of a day. Kageyama’s a straightforward kind of guy. If he’d hated it, he would have said something. Yamaguchi shoots off a quick text. 

wanna do that again next week? 

sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Tsukishima POV. He is a little different than my usual, heads up 7up. Song is "The Crane Wife 3" by The Decemberists.


	3. Tsukishima makes a phone call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deleted my WIP chapter for HP some-fucking-how and am pouting about it for a couple of days before I take my notes and get back to it, so in the meantime I'll probably update some of this or whatever.

Tsukishima knows he is a terrible friend. He takes comfort in the fact that when he was twelve and his brother had effectively wiped out any desire to work hard, be recognized, or to play well with others, he had turned to Yamaguchi and warned him. “You are my best friend,” Tsukishima had said. “I like you better than anyone else, but that isn’t saying much. I’m a bad friend and you should probably cut your losses now.” Yamaguchi had predictably refused and extolled Tsukishima’s good points until he was forced to tell him to quit being annoying. 

Tsukishima, however, is not a stupid person. He is able to read people and he knows with certainty that Yamaguchi does not quite understand how bad a bargain he has made in being Tsukishima’s best friend. 

For one thing, there’s the girls. 

When Yamaguchi likes a girl he is disgustingly obvious, blushing and stammering and coughing over his words. He’s puppy dog eager to help- running errands, bringing little presents. Nothing creepy, just kind of hopeful and soft. When it doesn’t work out, he’s never angry. He’s always calm and accepting. 

“It’s not like it doesn’t make sense, Tsukki,” he’d said. “I don’t expect anyone to actually like me back. It’s just nice to be around people you like, you know?”

Tsukishima does not know. He doesn’t particularly like anyone except his direct relatives and Yamaguchi. Which is why he started it in the first place, most likely. First year middle school Yamaguchi running out on trash duty for little Sakura-chan because he _likes_ her and the minute he steps out of the classroom it’s all _ooh, Tsukishima-kun, now that you’ve ditched your shadow, please go out with me._ He’d turned her down so brutally that he can’t even remember the words except that he knows it was some of his finest work. Possibly the most eloquent he has ever been in his life was furious whispering at a thirteen year old girl who had insulted his only friend. When she wheeled around, bawling and choking on her sobs, she pushed past Yamaguchi who stood in the doorway, empty trashcan in both arms. His eyes were so beautifully blank, mouth slack a little with injury. It was, until the training camp, the most upset he had ever seen his friend and it decided him. Yamaguchi had agreed to his terms, after all. Tsukishima would not permit anyone else to make him make that face. If anyone was going to break Yamaguchi, it was him. At least Tsukishima knew how to put him back together again afterward. 

From that point on, every time Yamaguchi started exhibiting the early warning signs of a crush, Tsukishima would make his move. He would be careful- so careful. Small things, always. Helping with a stuck locker. Complimenting a hair barrette. Advice on a present for his mother. Never around Yamaguchi, of course. Slowly reeling. Polite, bright smiles. Dazzle. Maybe once or twice, when Yamaguchi was sneaking looks, the girl was even sneaking looks back a little at first. He’s not a bad looking guy. The freckles are kind of cute, Tsukishima supposes. Sets him apart. A lot of things set him apart. He’s pretty sure he could find Yamaguchi in a crowd from a glimpse of his thumb or his knee where he fell skateboarding and left a star shaped scar. It didn’t matter. Tsukishima is good at reading people. He could be sweeter, tougher, smarter, more or less timid than whatever they wanted from Yamaguchi. Tsukishima made it a contest, and he hated to lose. 

He was never cruel after the first one. He waited until they confessed and he was such kindness. It was his own fault, for leading them on. How cruel. He is beside himself. He’ll treasure their feelings he just… can’t… be with them. He carries a small pack of tissues to gently brush the tears from their cheeks. Watches them run for comfort. Yamaguchi is very comforting. He pats their shoulders and offers niceties and has to listen to them sob over perfect wonderful Tsukishima. They love him so much they could just _die._ Yamaguchi’s face is always the best after that. Yamaguchi knows Tsukishima as well as anyone does, probably. If he’s never figured it out, maybe he’s just resigned to it. In the end, the girls confessed, cried, were comforted. If ever a girl didn’t fall for Tsukishima’s bullshit, maybe she’d be worth his best friend’s time. He’d believe it when he saw it first hand. 

Tsukishima doesn’t know what his face does the first time he hears Yamaguchi call Kageyama by his cutesy new little nickname, but his stomach rolls over on itself in a way that is unfamiliar and unpleasant. 

“Kags,” Yamaguchi says, handing out meatbuns after practice. Kageyama takes the meatbun with a nod of quiet thanks. Yamaguchi reads into the silence with a grin that means _you’re welcome._ The whole exchange takes maybe ten seconds, but Tsukishima is observant. 

So. Yamaguchi has a new friend now. 

Tsukishima isn’t stupid. He knows that Yamaguchi is his best friend- he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. There’s no need for petty jealousy or squabbling. Yamaguchi can have other friends- even Tsukishima has other friends now. He just… doesn’t like it somehow, which is telling in and of itself. His throat is too tight. Unthinkingly, he hands his meat bun to Hinata, uneaten. Hinata takes it gratefully but looks up at Tsukishima with suspicion. Whatever he sees, he thinks better of asking about it, choosing to eat the bun with a muffled _thanks_ instead. 

“Maybe it’ll help you grow,” Tsukishima says absently. Hinata’s mouth is full so he flips Tsukishima the bird as reply. 

“Tsukishima!” Yachi waves him over. He slows his pace until they walk side by side, the rest of the group pulling a little ahead. This friendship is still sort of a new thing. 

“I’m going to do it,” Yachi says without preamble. “Tell Hinata my feelings, I mean.” 

Tsukishima nearly stops, but catches himself, turning the pause into a long stride. He thinks about what he should say. Yachi had decided, after the match with Shiratorizawa, that she was Tsukishima’s friend. They would be friends now, she had told him, because Tsukishima needs friends and Yachi needs someone safe. It’s a little bizarre to think of himself as anyone’s safe space- he spends half his life being vocally judgmental, after all, but in a way he kind of understands. Though Yachi blushes sometimes in close proximity with a _wow are you pretty, Tsukishima!_ they both know she doesn’t like him like that. And in some strange twist, she seems to get that though he finds her pleasant company and competent enough, he’s never going to like her like that either. It is both a comfort and a bit disturbing. Still, Tsukishima rolled with it well enough and chalked his friend count up by one. It was, in all, a bit of an echo of how he’d become friends with Yamaguchi to begin with- acquiescing to someone else willing to put the work in. 

“Good luck,” Tsukihima tells Yachi now solemnly. 

She smiles up at him. “Thanks, Tsukishima! You’re a good friend.” 

Tsukishima smirks a little. “I’m really not.” 

“You are,” Yachi insists. “We both know what’s going to happen when I tell Hinata.” Her eyes crinkle up a little as her smile grows. “But you’re acting like it might really go well! Because you don’t want me to be hurt.” 

Tsukishima really does stop walking. “Yachi…” 

“He’s going to reject me and then I can move on,” Yachi recites, like she’s been saying it to herself for a while, memorized. “And I won’t have to feel like this anymore.” 

“I think that’s really brave,” Tsukishima says finally, starting to walk again. 

“Maybe, maybe not. It might be the coward’s way, to give myself permission to fall out of love.” Yachi tilts her head to the side. “It’s different for you, probably.” 

“I’m not a good friend, Yachi.” Tsukishima insists, ignoring her last statement. “I’m terrible to Yamaguchi.” 

“Well,” she says, studying the ground. “You know why that is.” 

When Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were about nine, there was a meteor shower. A really good one, Akiteru had said. He’d had an away game for training and couldn’t be there, but that was okay because Tsukishima had Yamaguchi now, even if the friendship was still shiny penny new. When he’d asked Akiteru if he minded if they borrowed his sleeping bag and telescope, he had ruffled Tsukishima’s hair affectionately, something Tsukishima loved and hated in equal measure. 

“I’m so glad you’re making friends,” Akiteru had said.

“Friend,” Tsukishima had corrected. 

What was the point in having more? Yamaguchi was always there, popping in with an observation or an exclamation, pulling Tsukishima into things headfirst, enthusiasm heavy like a vapor Tsukishima couldn’t help breathing in a little. Cute. Little. Fun. Clever but not too clever. Admiring. Cheerful. Genuine. Kind. Too kind. 

It had happened when his mother had brought them cocoa- whipped cream for him, tiny marshmallows for Yamaguchi. She had checked both their faces with the back of her hand, making sure they weren’t too cold out there before going back inside. Yamaguchi, mouth wobbling, began to talk. He talked long and low about how great Tsukishima was- how kind his parents were, how quiet his house was, how amazing dinner had been. How lucky it was that they all got along so well, that they all had dinner together almost every night like that. Even at nine, Tsukishima had been sharp, perceptive. He’d said nothing, sipping his cocoa down to the gummy, syrupy dregs and listening to all the things that Yamaguchi didn't say.

And so Tsukishima asks Yamaguchi over every week, a few times a week. Maybe more if it’s a bad week, maybe less if Yamaguchi is training with Shimeda. He asks Yamaguchi over all the time and he doesn’t ask about home. He hates that face Yamaguchi makes, when he’s sad over someone else. Only Tsukishima should ever get to make him make that face- the face that cares so much that it breaks. Only Tsukishima gets to make him make that face and then see him slowly push past because somehow Tsukishima’s worth it. Yamaguchi doesn’t have to sit at home where it's apparaently loud and harsh and lonely and no one feeds him properly. Yamaguchi doesn't chase those stupid girls. He’s always with Tsukishima, by his side.

“Yeah,” Tsukishima says to Yachi. “I do know.” 

Tsukishima decides the easiest thing is just a quick phone call after dinner, once his homework is done. It’s easier without Yamaguchi there, eyes open and expressive and easily read. He isn’t worried, really- Yamaguchi isn’t the type to dislike people who are different, and he’s accepted far worse things about Tsukishima already. Yamaguchi clearly admires him- has admitted to liking Tsukishima’s style, his height, his sense of humor. This will probably be fine, and if it’s not, Tsukishima can hang up at any time. It’s a perfect solution. Texts are too informal. Telephone call confessions should be more widespread, really. Wonderfully convenient. 

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi picks up on the first ring, voice cautious. Tsukishima never calls. 

“There’s something I wanted to say,” Tsukishima says coolly. 

“Sure, you can tell me anything!” Yamaguchi says cheerfully. 

“You’re alone?” Tsukishima checks. 

“Sure am,” Yamaguchi responds, voice still smiling. “Everything okay?” 

“There’s someone that I like.” Tsukishima says without preamble. There’s a long pause. 

“Is there?” Yamaguchi muses, voice more subdued. “I should say congratulations, then. Have you told him?” 

It takes Tsukishima a moment to respond. Things are suddenly starting to feel… off. “Him?” He echoes. 

“Isn’t it? I’ve never seen you care much for girls, no matter how good looking they are.” Yamaguchi asks, curiously. Tsukishima’s heartbeat picks up. 

“It’s…. no. It is a ‘him.’” Tsukishima manages. 

“Right. Well, I hope it goes well.” Yamaguchi says, cheerful voice returning. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me who it is?” Tsukishima asks, confused. 

“Oh! Hm... I don’t want to be nosy. Only tell me if you want to, okay?” 

“Aren’t you worried that it’s you?” Tsukshima asks a little desperately, fingers curling around his phone case, hard. 

Yamaguchi _laughs._

“Oh, Tsukki. No way! You would only like someone you respect- I think your type would be someone tall with dark hair and a cool expression. Maybe someone like Kuroo or Kageyama-“

Tsukishima actually makes a little choking sound. “I do _not-_ ”

“Well, I say that because you listened to Kuroo at the training camp, didn’t you? You really admire him a lot. And even though you say you hate him, you’re always teasing Kageyama even though you’re really impressed with how good he is. I can’t blame you. He’s a genius for sure.” 

“Kuroo, Yamaguchi are you _serious-_ ”

“He’s a little like Akiteru, isn’t he? Someone to look up to, I mean.” 

“I’m not going to like some guy who reminds me of my brother. Yamaguchi-” Tsukishima’s breath is coming in little sharp huffs. 

“Sorry, Tsukki. I guess I’m not taking your feelings very seriously. Did you want to tell me who is it that you like?” Yamaguchi asks kindly. 

Tsukishima can think of nothing he wants to do less. 

Tsukishima hangs up the phone without saying goodbye. He knows it’s rude- that Yamaguchi is probably looking down at his phone with the worried little frown he gets when Tsukishima forgets himself and is particularly cruel for no reason to someone who doesn’t deserve it. 

Has Yamaguchi ever deserved it? 

Tsukishima is so upset that he can feel the tears of frustration gathering in the corner of his eyes and he curses them softly. Tsukishima thinks he might throw up, the echoes of words _only someone you respect only someone you_ so loud that he fumbles over to his desk, shoves the headphones over his ears and cranks the music. One of those songs that Tsukishima likes best comes on, all soft guitar sounds and low vocals. _Hello my old heart. How have you been?_ He can see now, the past stretching back. Half his life he’s known Yamaguchi now, half his life he’s been Yamaguchi’s _best friend_ and he’s treated the other boy so badly that the idea that there could be anything- romantic, affectionate, warm- between them was a fucking joke. 

Yachi had called him a good friend. 

He was capable of being a good friend. 

So why hadn’t he ever been one for Yamaguchi? 

Because he’s afraid. Afraid of caring so much that it breaks him again. But shutting Yamaguchi out hadn’t helped, had it? He’d still ended up with all these feelings and all this hurt and _and it’s true you’ll never beat- but you’ll never break_

So. 

Tsukishima plays the song on repeat, loud as he can stand. 

He’s not wrong about everything. Yamaguchi is his friend and Yamaguchi thinks well of Tsukishima- thinks he’s cool even when he’s running scared, half-assing the important things. This is an important thing. 

What was it Yamaguchi had said, after the Shiratorizawa match? 

_I can think of a lot of words for you, but uncool isn’t one of them!_

Maybe Tsukishima needs to start acting like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song" "Hello My Old Heart" by The Oh Hello's
> 
> How was Tsukki? A total fuck up, but I still like him. 
> 
> Next up: Hinata POV which I have never done and am somewhat nervous about.


	4. Hinata tells a secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hinata was a lot more straightforward than the others, so this part ended up a bit shorter, lol.

Hinata likes girls. He likes cute girls and sexy girls and smart girls and silly girls. He likes girls who are smaller than him and girls that are taller than him, like models. He likes their perfume, flowers and fruit and bakery fresh. He likes how soft they look, but he likes tough girls too. He likes girls. So why… 

“I like you,” Yachi says simply, ducking her head shyly. 

It’s a Sunday and she’d asked him to meet her here, in the park. They’d bought ice cream and talked about school and volleyball and manga- Yachi _loves_ shonen manga- and it had been a really fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon with a friend. Then she had motioned to a bench and they’d watched the sun setting and just as he’s about to suggest they start heading back, she says it. 

She’s so cute and silly and small and soft. Yachi’s little side ponytail and the way even the smallest size jersey looks like a boyfriend shirt on her is just so girly and great. She smells like vanilla cupcakes. She’s the sort of girl he’s supposed to like- and he _does_ like her, but- 

“Do you like me, Hinata?” Yachi asks, voice gentle. He nods. “But not the same way, right?” He looks up. Yachi meets his eyes, smiling encouragingly, like she does when he’s stuck on a math problem she know he knows the answer to. He’s just gotta say. He’s gotta say. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. 

Yachi’s hand goes over her heart. “Don’t be! We’re friends, aren’t we?” She tilts her head to the side a little and her hair falls into her eyes. Maybe on purpose. She’s still smiling. 

“Can’t we be?” Hinata pleads. 

“Of course. We’re friends. I just wanted one date, you know? And now I’ve had it.” Yachi straightens her shoulders. “You should head back home.” Hinata stands but Yachi stays seated. 

“Yachi…”

“It’s okay. I just want to sit a little bit longer.” 

Hinata walks a little, rounding the corner where the shelter for the soda machine sits. He presses his back against the partition. He peers between the slats, his fingers curling into fists and then straightening, a pulse on his washing machine feelings, soggy and tumbling. He can see her still thought he can’t see her face- Yachi has her cellphone up to her ear. She nods when she speaks even though the other person can’t hear her. It’s one of a hundred different adorable things that make Yachi who she is- someone precious that ought to be loved. All he’d had to do is accept her. But. Yachi hangs up the phone after a moment and just sits on the bench, back very straight. It’s strange to see her like this- she’s always a little folded over, protecting the soft heart of herself. But then, she’d shown that heart, hadn’t she? Already knowing… 

Hinata can’t leave her. Maybe it’s creepy, watching over her like this, but he feels like it’s the least he can do. The wait feels like hours, days- but then Hinata has never liked keeping still. When Yachi moves, it’s just to turn her head. Someone comes quickly up the path with a long legged stride. Tsukishima drops onto the bench next to Yachi. Hinata is too far away to hear what they are saying, but after a minute, Yachi relaxes. She brings her hands up to her face. She cries. Tsukishima awkwardly puts his arm around her shoulders and lets her. It’s the least Tsukishima-y thing that Hinata has ever seen and it twists him up something fierce inside. He’d done this. 

Hinata leaves. 

Where is he going? He can’t go home with his face like this. Where to go, where to go. Somewhere safe. Somewhere he can be to clear his head. Someone who understands without him saying anything at all. Hinata opens the gate to Kageyama’s house. 

Oh. Of course. 

Hinata raises his fist to knock on the door before he hears it, floating across the yard. It’s a soft, sad song. Hinata follows the notes around the side of the house to the backyard. Kageyama sits on the bottom step of the porch, Yamaguchi at the top. Yamaguchi holds a guitar and sings. 

_when she calls, don’t send her my way_  
_when it hurts you’ll know it’s the right thing_

It’s nice, Yamaguchi’s voice. It’s nice, the look on Kageyama’s face, his eyes turned up all soft and warm, looking at Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi’s eyes are closed when he plays and sings. He isn’t seeing this thing… but Hinata does. It’s special, just the two of them. And it’s fine, he decides, quietly retracing his steps, leaving with the song still chasing him.

They’d decided, hadn’t they? To go to the top of Japan. That Hinata would chase Kageyama, overtake him, be the winner. But Kageyama would always chase back, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t settle ever, not that guy. So this is fine, because Yamaguchi had his eyes closed. And even if he opens them someday, it won’t matter. When it’s over it’ll be the two of them, him and Kageyama. He’s sure of it. 

He’s sure of it. 

On Monday, Hinata loses himself in volleyball, which is always the nicest part of the day. Hinata feels energized and satisfied after the morning session, even if Yachi’s smile seems a little forced and Tsukishima is watching him a little too closely, even after blocking practice. Yamaguchi’s in a bad mood and everyone knows it, even though he’s wearing his good-natured smile. He’s been in a bad mood a couple of days now and usually Hinata would be right there asking, but not today. Everything is going to be normal- Kageyama’s hard neutral expression, his eyes darting over to Yamaguchi a lot more often than Hinata had ever noticed before. Hinata grins at nothing in particular. It’s so normal. 

On the way back from lunch, Tsukishima puts a heavy hand on the top of Hinata’s head, keeping him in place. Expecting another short joke, Hinata glares up but his protest dies in his throat. Tsukishima’s expression, looking down at him, is unexpectedly thoughtful. He hesitates before speaking- like he’s really putting thought into what he has to say. 

“About Yachi,” he says. Hinata stills. “It’s okay.” He says finally. 

Hinata doesn’t know what Tsukishima means, exactly, but he doesn’t want to ask. 

“Yeah,” he says finally. “Thanks.” 

Tsukishima lets his hand drop to Hinata’s shoulder for a second before he steps away. Hinata chalks the whole thing up to Tsukishima’s tall person weirdness, but he feels a little better about it anyway. Tsukishima’s specialty is mean truths. Maybe this is a nice one that slipped through by mistake. 

Hinata doesn’t really have a good excuse for what happens at the meeting after practice except that he’s tired and worn out and his head hurts and he isn’t good at this pretending things are good when they’re not really and he’s reaching his limit. Ennoshita is explaining that the school-wide sports program fundraiser will be music themed- was there anything that the volleyball club could do to contribute? Tanaka can play the drums, of course, because he’d learned from Saeko ages ago, and Noya picked up bass because chicks dig musicians. 

“Didn’t you say that you took piano lessons?” Yachi asks Tsukishima who scowls at being called out. She just smiles back and it seems like a real smile so Hinata looks away. 

“Yamaguchi plays guitar,” Hinata says absently. When he looks up, it’s like time stands still. They’re mostly looking at him- interest, curiosity, surprise. But Yamaguchi is glaring at Kageyama like he’s just gotten smacked in the back of the head by an errant serve and Tsukishima is looking at Yamaguchi like… well… like Yachi looked at Hinata, the other day. 

“We’ll keep it simple,” Ennoshita explains. “Maybe three songs. You guys hash it out.” Yamaguchi agrees because he has to, but he’s looking at the floor like he wants it to be on fire. Tsukishima watches Yamaguchi being angry, Kageyama wilting into himself a little, even as he shoots Hinata little _what the fuck, dumbass?_ looks. 

Hinata decides to be direct. It’s the only thing he’s any good at, anyway. When Yamaguchi slams out of the room first, Hinata trails after him, still half buttoning his shirt, catching the taller boy in the middle of the stairs. 

“Yamaguchi, I heard you playing over at Kageyama’s. He didn’t tell me anything. I didn’t know it was a secret, so I’m really sorry.” Hinata bows a little. Yamaguchi shifts his beg from one shoulder to the other, uncomfortably. 

“Why didn’t you say anything when you came by?” Yamaguchi asks. Hinata blinks. 

“Ah, that’s…” He shrugs. 

“It’s a stupid thing to get mad over anyway. I should have just said myself. Don’t worry about it, Hinata.” Yamaguchi says, but his shoulders are still tense. He watches the clubroom door. Who is he looking for? 

“Well, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Hinata asks. 

“Of course,” Yamaguchi looks up at that with a little worried frown. “We won’t stop being friends over something like this.” Yamaguchi goes down the rest of the stairs. Behind Hinata, Tsukishima steps out of the clubroom. 

Hinata shakes his head. “No, I mean. Well, we’re friends, so it’s okay if you don’t say everything. You only have to say the things you want to share. Right, Tsukishima?” Yamaguchi starts at that, whirling around to look up at the taller boy. 

“Right,” Tsukishima says, agreeing with Hinata for maybe the first time ever. “Guitar, huh?” His voice is a little strange. Yamaguchi’s fingers tighten on his bag strap. “That’s pretty cool.” Tsukishima walks ahead, catching up with Yachi who waits down closer to the gate. Yamaguchi’s eyes follow him, even as he stands still, his face a little red. He might be waiting for Kageyama, but he’s watching for Tsukishima. Like always. 

Kageyama steps out last, his expression wary. 

Hinata turns down the hill. He’s caught between them- Yachi’s bright fake smile, Kageyama’s sad soft eyes, Yamaguchi’s blush, Tsukishima’s awkward care. Being a teenager sure is hard, he thinks. 

“I’m sorry I doubted you, Kags,” Yamaguchi says in a low voice behind him. 

“It’s okay,” Kageyama says, voice gentle. 

Hinata hums the song a little low, under his breath. The only part he remembers. 

_what am I supposed to do now?_  
_Without you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little angstier than I had planned... let me know what you think. Song is Michigan by the Milk Carton Kids.


	5. Kags gets kissed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to tell what the angst-fluff ratio is anymore.

Kagayama doesn’t like to overthink things. It seems like a waste of fucking time, honestly. Get sad or mad or worked up or whatever and get over it- move on. He likes Hinata and Hinata doesn’t like him back. Fine. Screw that guy. Who needs him? Kageyama’s just gonna move right along to somebody else. Yamaguchi is interesting- hardworking, thoughtful. They get along really well. Maybe he’s not as striking as some other guys, but he’s got good shoulders when he’s standing up straight. His long slim fingers look good splayed across the neck of a guitar. He’s getting pretty good at volleyball, too, which seems to be Kageyama’s one big gay crush prerequisite. Yeah. Yamaguchi, with his sly little half smile. That's who he likes.

There’s just one problem, really.

“This sucks,” Yamaguchi says, putting his amp and guitar down in the clubroom with a groan. “Such a pain to carry in.” 

“Could be worse,” Noya says cheerfully, already pulling his practice shirt on over his head. “We had to get Big Sis to bring up Ryu’s drum set last night in the car. It took us three trips! It’s locked up in the music practice room already. You’re gonna have to drop those off before class.” 

Yamaguchi huffs a little, digging in his bag for his practice clothes. 

Hinata blinks slowly. “You’re not really this mad about the guitar stuff though, are you? You’re mad about something else.” 

“Not today, Hinata. Don’t do your stupidly perceptive thing today, okay?” Yamaguchi says tightly, slamming the locker shut. Then Tsukishima comes in and Yamaguchi looks at Tsukishima looks at Yamaguchi. 

“Excuse me,” Yamaguchi clips out, pushing past him through the door and heading toward the gym. 

“Who pissed in his cereal?” Noya asks, peering after him. 

Hinata and Kageyama look at Tsukishima. He notices and his neutral expression deepens into a frown, but he doesn’t otherwise react. He even nods at Hinata in a stiff sort of hello. Yamaguchi has been frustrated all week- wound tight and snappish at the slightest thing, even before dumbass Hinata opened his big fucking mouth. Kageyama hasn’t asked yet, he doesn’t know if that’s a friend thing or what- but he’s got a pretty good idea, with Tsukishima keeping his head down like that. The problem with Yamaguchi is Tsukishima, always. One problem- one big blonde jerkass problem. Kageyama doesn’t know if he’s tall enough for it. 

“What?” Tsukishima asks. Belatedly, Kageyama realizes that he’s standing in front of the door, arms crossed, blocking the way. It’s just the two of them left in the clubroom, Noya and Hinata having already left. 

“Nothing,” Kageyama says, stepping to the side. He drops down to fix his shoelace more securely. “You suck,” he adds, as an afterthought. 

“Yeah,” Tsukishima agrees. 

Fuck that guy. 

Kageyama leans against the door for a minute or two, trying to clear his head. Volleyball, volleyball. Outside, everyone has gone ahead except Hinata, who is bouncing on his toes, doing little calf raises as he waits for Kageyama, his orange hair flipping down into his eyes. Cute as always. They fall into step, side by side. When they open the door to the gym, the first thing they see is Yachi drooping over the bench like a week old flower hanging out of a vase, Tsukishima leaning over her. Tsukishima straightens suddenly, sharp eyes glancing over and his mouth folding into something almost apologetic. Beside Kageyama, Hinata stills for a second, only noticeable because of how not-still Hinata is practically all the time otherwise. This isn’t the rose-gold love story he was expecting. Maybe it was just Tsukishima’s lot in life to be the complication for everyone on the fucking team. He’s sure at least two of the first years have a thing for him, the dumbasses. Still, Yachi? Kageyama likes her well enough to think she’d have better taste. 

“Are they dating?” Kageyama wonders out loud during stretches. He winces internally when he sees Yamaguchi’s shoulders stiffen and still over where he’s working with Tanaka. 

Hinata stares at him. “Don’t be stupid, Yamayama,” he says finally. Kageyama doesn’t get it.

After practice, Tsukishima picks up the amp and waits for Yamaguchi, his own keyboard slung over his back. He doesn’t even put his headphones on. Yamaguchi keeps shooting little side glances over and it take three tries for him to button his shirt right. 

“Do you have a song preference? For the fundraiser.” Tsukshima asks.

“I don’t care. Noya and Tanaka said you pick.” Yamaguchi buttons his shirt again. 

“They said we should pick,” Tsukishima corrects him. 

“Pick some of your songs. It doesn’t matter, I can play most of those, I hear them enough.” 

“You can?” Tsukishima asks, voice soft and a little- what is that? – hopeful? Yamaguchi’s mouth twists up a little in frustration, like he’s given something important away. “Can I text you about it?” Tsukishima’s eyes focus on Yamaguchi’s face. 

“Text me whenever,” Yamaguchi responds, ducking his head as he shoulders his bag. His ears are reddening. 

A tug at Kageyama’s sleeve and he looks down. 

“We’re going to be late,” Hinata says, letting go and heading toward their classrooms. Kageyama follows, absently rubbing the spot near his elbow that Hinata had brushed against. Hot to the touch. 

Yamaguchi tunes the guitar after school in the practice room and Kageyama sits across from him, watching. The rest of the makeshift band will be coming soon, but for the moment it’s just the two of them. It’s nice- calm but heavy, like before it thunders. 

“You don’t have to stick around,” Yamaguchi says finally, fingers fiddling with the strings nervously, only producing soft plucking sounds. “It’ll probably sound kind of terrible the first few practices anyway, and it’ll be boring to watch.” 

“It’s fine,” Kageyama says, eyes zeroed in on the guitar. 

“You like watching me play, don’t you? You ever thought about learning?” Yamaguchi asks, scooting closer. 

“Not in a million years,” Kageyama scoffs. 

“Why not? You keep your hands in good shape for setting. You’d be good at it. Here, hold it like this-” Kageyama holds a lapful of guitar suddenly, his sure hands clumsy at the new weight. Yamaguchi’s fingers press down overtop of Kageyama’s. 

“See? And this is C,” Yamaguchi says kindly into Kageyama’s ear. Warm against his shoulder. Warm against his hand. And, as Kageyama turns his head, warm against his mouth. Kageyama’s lips brush against Yamaguchi’s cheek, skim the freckles there. Yamaguchi’s dark eyes flit across Kageyama’s face, thoughtful. Then his hand comes up, holding Kageyama’s chin firmly. His eyes slide close. They kiss- _proper_ kiss. Mouth on mouth with pressure and everything- warm and welcome. His first kiss. Yamaguchi pulls back with the same searching look. Whatever he finds makes him grin, but it’s lopsided. 

“No good, Kags? Probably not for you.” Yamaguchi says lightly, taking the guitar back. His expression is amiable, his eyes mellow. No fire. No click. Kageyama swallows embers, coals burning down to ash piles in his stomach. He’s bad at this. How is he so bad at this? 

“No,” Kageyama lies. “Sorry.” 

He sits in the corner when everyone else files in, quiet with his hands folded in his lap. Hinata sits to the left of him, Kinnoshita to the right. Everyone is rambunctious, cheerful. He feels a little far away, like he isn’t really hearing it. What’s happening? In the center of the room, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi compare notes, flip through the songs on Tsukishima’s phone, pointing at the small screen, their fingers brushing. The tension goes out of Yamaguchi’s shoulders. He’s forgetting how he’s supposed to feel around Tsukishima, he’s just feeling how he always feels instead. Relaxed. Happy. 

Kageyama and Yamaguchi haven't talked about it yet, but he already knows. There won’t be any more Sunday practices coming up- not with prep for the fundraiser, and then 7 day training for Interhigh. They went to fucking nationals. There’s certain expectations. Kageyama knows about expectations. 

It’s okay- not like he’s going to stop being friends with Yamaguchi now. They'll still talk and walk together sometimes and maybe hang out at times that aren't during practice or school. It’s not like things are bad. They’re just not what he’d thought, not with sweet music and shared meals. He’d wanted… well, he’d wanted. 

They play. The tinny hum of the keyboard, the electric snap of the guitar. They sing, voices intertwined. They look at each other, first side glances, then outright locking eyes, grinning around the words. Sometimes they screw up the song, laughing. Yamaguchi reaches over to press a few chords across white and black keys, half draped over Tsukishima's shoulder. Tsukishima lets him, attention quiet but fixed. Even when they separate, pulling Noya and Tanaka in for their parts, Kageyama sees it stretching out between the two. A physical thing, their bond is. Years and years and years in the making. Kageyama curls his fingers into his pants leg, nails cutting into fabric like they scrabble against that bond, sliding off without leaving a mark. Bulletproof glass. Seemingly fragile but stronger than Kageyama’s blunt metallic heart. 

_first you get hurt, then you feel sorry_

Hinata’s hand closes around one of Kageyama’s, startling him out of his fugue. Hinata wordlessly pulls Kageyama to his feet. He’s got both of their bags, slung over his shoulders. He’s tiny, compact- but somehow large and omnipresent. When Hinata leads him out of the room, the brightness of him almost blocks out everything else. 

_I do not deserve_  
 _to wait around forever_  
_when you were there first_

Almost. 

“You don’t ever take the easy way, do you?” Hinata asks in the still dark of the path toward home. 

“Same to you,” Kageyama shoots back, automatically defensive. 

He doesn’t know what to do with this and it’s making him angry. It’s making him tired. He knows he could race into the night and Hinata would follow- pressing on till they fell to the ground. He could push and be shoved. Meeting in the middle and then passing, lagging behind and getting dragged up ahead. Kageyama is a genius- he can do anything, practically, but had he ever really without Hinata’s force behind him? Going going go. That’s Hinata. 

Jesus fuck Kageyama likes him. He likes him so much, the both of them. 

“Can you like more than one person at a time?” Kageyama asks so quietly that he doesn’t think Hinata even hears it. 

“Of course,” Hinata answers easily. “Of course you can.” A pause. “But I think you always like someone most.” 

It isn’t until Hinata lets go that Kageyama realizes that they’d still been holding hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "First" by the Cold War Kids


	6. Yamaguchi in love

Yamaguchi got his first kiss when he was six; a four year old named Rinko had pushed him off the swings and sat on him before giving him a wet, sloppy, candy-sticky child kiss. It was horrifying. He’d cried. A lot. It was traumatizing, okay? He’s had dreams where he’s struggling to breathe and he can’t get the taste of banana Laffy Taffy out of his mouth. He hates banana Laffy Taffy. 

Rinko aside, Yamaguchi’s not the kind of guy that girls _like._ He’s a little surprised when anybody likes him, really, so that’s fine. It’s just that a shocking amount of sad faced, tear-stained girls run to him after Tsukishima breaks their hearts and he has to say _I know I know_ without ever, you know, actually getting to say that he knows. Of course he knows. 

See, Yamaguchi has always been a quiet child. Pleasant but plain. Fading into the background. When he’d been bullied, his parents weren’t surprised. Weak kid. No backbone. Yamaguchi couldn’t really blame them. All that screaming and shouting- he hadn’t inherited even a little bit, it seemed. He’d been scrubbing at his tear stained cheeks, replacing the band aids on his knees and elbows where he’d gotten pushed down on the ground when he’d heard-

“Honestly,” -his mother, on the phone to his aunt in America, rolling her eyes- “It’s just surprising anyone noticed him enough to make him a target.” 

Yeah. 

These girls. They’re cute, most of them. The kind Yamaguchi likes- the same way he likes lab partners or the guys who ask if he wants to join pick up basketball games during lunch sometimes. The kind of person that seems smart or cool or good looking Before Tsukki- before he sweeps in with a withering look and a sharp observation and they buckle, frail and shiny like torn aluminum foil. After Tsukki, nobody seems so bright and Yamaguchi forgets – exactly – what it was that he liked so much about them in the first place. So when these girls are sobbing, sobbing over Tsukishima, they talk about it with the person who knows best. Yamaguchi knows Tsukishima best, okay? If there was a Tsukki Trivia Night, Yamaguchi would take first, second and third places all at once. They like that for some reason. Makes them think Yamaguchi’s on their side. He’s not. He’s on Tsukki’s side, always. When they’re all soft and sad like that… it’s honestly a little pathetic. 

Still, some of these girls- the really good looking ones, the ones who aren’t used to being told _no,_ they want to settle for a consolation prize. Yamaguchi respectfully declines. A handful of times, though. Well. They were cute. He was a little slow to dodge. 

So yeah, he’s been kissed. 

Kags was the first time he’d ever done the kissing, though. 

Yamaguchi glances up from where he’s packing up his guitar in its case. Most of the onlookers left ages ago- practices are boring, even if the sight of volleyball players behind the instruments was novel at first. Only Ennoshita is still around, over in the corner chatting to Nishinoya and Tanaka as they clear up their space. Both of them are sweating, red faced. Tanaka’s shirt hangs loosely around his neck like a cowl; it’s too hot to wear properly, he complains, wiping his face against the material. Yamaguchi spares a cursory, appreciative glance for his abs before snapping his case closed and getting to his feet. He hadn’t expected Kageyama to stick around and had said as much, but somehow now that he was gone- now that he’d left with Hinata, Yamaguchi is actually feeling a little bereft. 

Noya shoots him a thumbs up and a grin from across the room, as if sensing his mood. 

“Nice job, Guitar Hero!”

Yamaguchi smiles back, weakly. Movement in the corner draws his attention, and he studies Tsukishima, who is loading the keyboard back into the sling and putting it over his shoulder. Ennoshita is waiting to lock the music room for the night, but Tsukishima’s not the type to let his things out of his sight for very long. 

Tsukki is striking- eye catching. The opposite of a guy like Yamaguchi, really. Even when he’s just standing there silently, people _look_ at Tsukki. Yamaguchi, most of all, stares up, a dandelion stalk next to a sunflower. He’s worked his whole life to be a good friend, the best friend. He’s been frustrated by Tsukishima, hurt by him, but it never mattered because it was worth it. Always, it was worth it. 

Now Yamaguchi can’t even look at him for more than a second. He’s so _angry._ He’s not sure he’s ever been so angry in his whole life. His good-natured shell has cracked and a wellspring of fury bubbles up every time he so much as turns in Tsukishima’s direction. Words choke back between his teeth like bile, mouth bitter tasting and dry. 

Tsukishima likes someone. Well, of course he does. It was bound to happen eventually. He even managed to talk about it to Yamaguchi, to his best friend, like a good, sharing, normal person. It is probably the most well-adjusted thing Tsukishima has ever done in their relationship. Yamaguchi ought to be giving him a gold star. Instead, best friend that he is, Yamaguchi had heard the first few words and decided that clearly, Tsukki had to be stopped.

On the phone, Yamaguchi had babbled until Tsukishima, frustrated, had hung up on him. Really, it was Tsukishima who should be angry, brushed aside like that, but this is some strange opposite-world where the more upset and frustrated Yamaguchi gets, the more placid and attentive Tsukishima becomes and it is driving him up the fucking wall. 

Stop this, Yamaguchi wants to say. Can’t you see I’m trying to get over you? 

He doesn’t say it. 

What’s he supposed to say? Tsukishima’s just _there,_ all soft eyes and stillness. He’s being nicer to Hinata- being _way too goddamn nice_ to Yachi and honestly if Yamaguchi hadn’t heard Tsukishima say that it was definitely a guy that Tsukishima’d fallen for, he’d probably be having a total meltdown. For fuck’s sake, Tsukishima’s even been picking on Kageyama less, lately. 

Kageyama. He’d kissed Kageyama. 

Who the hell does _Tsukishima_ want to kiss? He can’t ask now, the moment’s passed. Anyway, he doesn’t want to know. He just needs to. 

In the hallway, Yamaguchi pulls his earbuds from his pocket, flicking on the playlist on his phone. He has one in when he stills, noticing Tsukishima standing by the door leading outside, looking back at him. 

“Ready?” Tsukishima asks.

They’re walking home together. Of course. Why wouldn’t they? 

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi answers, looking back at his feet. 

So. Kissing. 

It was nicer when both sides were trying, Yamaguchi decided. It had been- impulsive. Not-Yamaguchi like. Not-Yamaguchi like at all- but then, Kageyama hadn’t been looking at him the way Yamaguchi was used to being looked at, either. Like he was doing something wonderful and difficult. Like his hand on Kageyama’s was worthy of a racing heart. 

Still, Kageyama didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the whole thing. They’d been getting along so well, too. Kageyama, calm and quiet and just… easy. He was easy to be with in a way that cooled Yamaguchi down, soothed the frayed edges of his anxiety. And hadn’t Kageyama been smiling more? On the back porch at the other boy’s house that day… he’d been sure that there had been a moment, when the music stopped, before he’s opened his eyes that- 

Well. 

Maybe they should talk about it, or…?

“We ended up in that band after all, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima breaks in casually. 

“What?” Yamaguchi stops walking, his heart in his throat. 

“Ah, did you forget? It was a long time ago we talked about it.” Tsukishima says calmly, looking back at him. It’s dark outside and they’ve stopped between streetlights, Yamaguchi highlighted and Tsukishima shadowed, his expression hard to read but Yamaguchi doesn’t even need to see it. He can tell by his voice that Tsukishima is being genuine and offhanded, a little nostalgic. Rare and soft. Yamaguchi can feel himself _shaking._

How dare you? How _dare_ you? 

The music threads up from Yamaguchi’s forgotten headphones, in the night air- _what if you were the one for me? I hope you’re not the one for me_ -Tsukishima continues, blithely. 

“It was years ago. It probably wasn’t important to you. But you know, I stuck with piano for another two years. It was probably because of that.” 

Of course. Of course. 

Yamaguchi’s mouth is dry. He swallows and it snaps- his patience, his words, his heart- and it’s impossible, isn’t it? 

“Tsukki, why didn’t you ever ask me about how things are going at home?” Yamaguchi asks. “I’m supposed to be your best friend and you don’t even ask how I’m doing.” 

Tsukishima blinks. “You hate it there, don’t you? I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.” 

He’s never getting over this. How can he? It’s like Tsukishima reaches into his chest to pluck the words out he needs to hear, a little too late. He wants to yell at Tsukishima, to grab him by the front of his shirt again, but if he does it this time he won’t be able to keep from kissing him, and- 

“How did you know? Is that why you always ask to hang out?” Yamaguchi demands. 

“That’s why I ask you to hang out at my house specifically. I ask you to hang out because I want to hang out. And I know because I know you.” Tsukishima shifts the weight of the keyboard a little on his back. It’s a little heavy to hold up for too long, but Tsukishima isn’t complaining- he seems to be taking this conversation out in the middle of the sidewalk as some kind of improvement even with Yamaguchi two seconds from imploding, from falling in on himself like a dying star. 

Yamaguchi opens his mouth even though he doesn’t know what the fuck he is even going to say when Tsukishima interrupts. 

“I always thought that if you wanted something from me- really wanted it, you would just tell me and you would know that I would do it. But I think that maybe you don’t know, or that I shouldn’t always make you ask. I… apologize.” 

_I fell for your eyes, I just realized I still need you_ \- Tsukishima reaches out, fingers brushing the earbuds hanging down Yamaguchi’s chest and Yamaguchi grabs that hand in a grip that is a little too tight. He can’t speak- the words are caught in the funnel of his throat, backing up until he can hardly breathe. Yamaguchi looks into light brown, honey, gold. 

Too late for him. 

Yamaguchi gathers the remains of his self-righteous anger, of his jealousy, and he shifts, holding Tsukishima by the hand and pulling him along- walking, leading, firmly and with purpose, like he’d done with Kageyama but different, going forward even as every nerve in him screamed to turn around and look behind because. 

Because it doesn’t matter who Tsukishima wants to be with, Yamaguchi made his choice a long time ago. And if he’s got anything going for him, it’s this. Loyalty. 

Yamaguchi brings Tsukishima beyond the intersection where they always part ways and Tsukishima follows, docile, and Yamaguchi needs that last flare of fury to get to the door because this person Tsukishima cares about, they’ve done this- this change, this gentleness is for _them_ and Yamaguchi hopes bitterly that they get it, what they’ve got here, how much it means. 

Yamaguchi opens the door to his apartment and steps back to let Tsukishima in. 

“I’m home,” he says weakly. The anger has left him and now he’s just cold, nearly shivering with it- adrenaline, he realizes.

Because it’s Tsukishima he doesn’t ask stupid, obvious questions. Yamaguchi lives here and he lives here alone and he has lived here alone for some time. Tsukishima takes it in, processes this information, breaks it down into pieces, assimilates. 

Yamaguchi should be talking. He should be explaining. He should be. He lied. He _lied._

Tsukishima turns around so fast that Yamaguchi hardly registers the movement before he’s swept up, hug so tight that he’s actually standing a little on the balls of his feet to lean into it. 

“Sorry, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima’s saying into his ear. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

He can’t help it. He cries a little. 

Yamaguchi is being held by the person he loves, and all he does is fucking cry. 

Pathetic.

_I still need you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is ‘Thoughts on you’ by the Band CAMINO.
> 
> Next part: Tsukki POV. Gonna be a little long, I think.
> 
> Idly considering a post graduation timeskip YamaKage sequel.
> 
> Thoughts?


	7. Tsukki gets romantic

When Tsukishima gets home from practice, he greets his mother politely. He goes upstairs and sets his keyboard neatly in the closet, keeping it packed up for easy transport. He takes a shower, rinsing off the grime and sweat from a day’s practice. He changes into comfortable clothes and looks over his homework. He eats dinner, answering questions about his day with minimal detail. He helps with the dishes. When he finishes all of this, he goes back into his room and shuts the door firmly behind him. He sets an alarm on his phone for ten minutes. 

For ten minutes, Tsukishima feels. 

He lays back on his bed, arms wrapped loosely around a pillow that says Dino-Mite with a picture of a stegosaurus on it that Yamaguchi bought him as a birthday present when he was in middle school. He’d ragged it mercilessly, till even Yamaguchi’s most nervous smile faltered. It is his favorite possession. He sleeps with it every night. 

Wave after wave. Self-loathing. Disappointment. Jealousy. It burns like a physical thing- like a scalding hot drink going down, like the acid etch of heartburn. Yamaguchi in a tiny one room apartment, his hands spread like _this is it,_ eyes helpless and hopeless and not expecting anything. What’s the point, he’d cried into Tsukishima’s shoulder. Who cares, why bother talking about it. 

The alarm goes off. 

Tsukishima sits up. 

I can think of a lot of words… 

He sends off a text- an invitation. Then he goes to bed. 

~~

Kageyama is scowling when they meet up for lunch, which is not even a little bit surprising. 

“Why are you carrying that shit around with you?” He asks bluntly, glancing over the keyboard on Tsukishima’s back. 

Tsukishima shrugs. “I need it later,” is all he says. 

“You’re really buying me lunch.” Kageyama’s eyebrows raise and his scowl, if possible, becomes more scowl-like. 

“I’m really buying you lunch.” Tsukishima agrees amiably, his hands in his pockets. 

“Creepy,” Kageyama announces, heading toward the door of the fast food restaurant, glancing uneasily behind himself. 

“Don’t push it,” Tsukishima rolls his eyes. 

After they get their food and settle into a table, Kageyama pauses, burger halfway to his mouth. After a moment, he sets it down, uneaten. 

“What the fuck is this?” He asks bluntly. “Are you telling me to back off or something?” 

Tsukishima blinks. “Back off of what?” 

“Yamaguchi. And don’t play dumb.” Kageyama points at Tsukishima with a french fry. 

“No.” Tsukishima takes a sip of his strawberry milkshake. 

“No?” Kageyama flings the word at him, an accusation. 

“No,” Tsukishima repeats slowly, feeling a headache coming on. “Yamaguchi’s his own person.” 

“So this isn’t because he kissed me?” Kageyama asks, staring him down. The posturing makes Tsukishima tired, which is unfortunate. It’s kind of turning out to be a long day. He’d been up so early, practicing. It just seems unfair to have to speak idiot on top of everything else. 

Still, it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it or whatever. 

“You’re not surprised?” Kageyama asks warily. 

“No. Hinata saw you two.” Tsukishima says coolly. For a moment, he allows himself to cruelly enjoy the stark expression that crosses Kageyama’s face at that. It almost makes up for the sad, twisting way Hinata had been smiling at the ground when he told Tsukishima, their shared, unhappy silence, the set of Hinata’s jaw when he took Kageyama by the hand and led him out of practice. Small pleasures in life. 

“Anyway,” Tsukishima continues, allowing the moment to pass. “Getting pissed at you for liking Yamaguchi is kind of hypocritical.” 

Kageyama turns the statement over in his head, chewing thoughtfully on a chicken nugget. “Oh,” he says eventually. “So why are you buying me lunch?” 

“I’m trying to be a better friend,” Tsukishima says diplomatically. 

Kageyama’s eyebrows raise so high that they are nearly lost in his fringe. “Are we _friends?_ ” 

Tsukishima smothers a sigh. “I guess.” 

“You owe me a lot of lunches,” Kageyama says critically. “You’re a total asshole, you know that?” 

“I’m going to tell him. Yamaguchi, I mean.” Tsukishima clarifies. “He might like you, but he likes me more. Or first. Probably.” He amends. 

“Is this you being a good friend?” Kageyama asks, clearly unimpressed. He finishes his fries, crunching the small, crispy leftovers between his teeth. He reaches for Tsukishima’s mostly untouched fries, but Tsukishima intercepts, sliding the remaining nuggets in his path instead. Tsukishima bags the remaining fries- soft and floppy and sad. 

“No. This is.” Tsukishima glances at his watch, rising to his feet. “Yachi confessed to Hinata last week.” Kageyama drops the nugget. “He turned her down- the way she knew he would. The way I knew he would. The way everyone on the planet knew he would except, apparently, you.” 

“What does that even mean?” Kageyama asks, leaning across the table, eyes wide. 

Figure it out, Tsukishima wants to snap. Grow up, you stupid King. Get a goddamn clue. 

The way you’ve been acting lately is really pathetic. 

“If you like Hinata so much,” Tsukishima says flatly, “maybe quit kissing other people.” 

Kageyama blinks slowly, once, twice. Then he nods. 

The most humiliating thing that Tsukishima has ever had to deal with was being stupid enough to believe that Akiteru was Karasuno’s ace. It didn’t matter that he’d been a child- he should have _known._ The faltering smiles, his reticence about his games- since when had Akiteru passed up an opportunity to show off? A thousand signs that Tsukishima had ignored, too blinded by his hero worship to see a dumb high schooler in over his head, trying not to disappoint an unrealistic kid brother. The things he’d said. Even now, years later, the memory of the praise he’d heaped on Akiteru- the awe he projected, makes his ears burn. He doesn’t know what happened to Tagata- the unfortunate classmate whose brother was also benched during the glory years. Uncharitably, he hopes he’s moved away, or perhaps has been hit by a train. 

No, it’s bad enough a near-stranger saw his childish idiocy. That _Yamaguchi_ had been there- had seen such a disgusting thing, was still there...

On the walk to Yamaguchi’s, Tsukishima has to put the keyboard down and balance the paper bag of French fries on top twice so he can wipe his sweating palms off on his pants. 

He thinks maybe sometimes it’s okay to put himself out there. If it’s important enough. 

He knocks on the door. It slides open after a moment, Yamaguchi squinting up into the light behind Tsukishima. 

“Here.” Tsukishima thrusts the bag into Yamaguchi’s chest and the shorter boy stumbles back, hands coming up to catch it. 

“Fries? What’s the special occasion?” Yamaguchi asks, closing the door behind them. “Ah, it’s the good kind.” 

“It’s a bribe,” Tsukishima explains, walking further into the room. Yamaguchi pauses, fries already stuffed into his mouth, to stare at him suspiciously. Tsukishima pushes Yamaguchi’s low table against the wall and wheels the desk chair to the center of the room. He puts the case on the floor and sets up the stand. His hands shake very slightly when he unzips the main compartment and pulls out the keyboard. 

“I want to play you something.” 

“For the performance, maybe?” Yamaguchi asks, relaxing into the chair like only Yamaguchi does. Yamaguchi is artless, like a colt, but usually spends so much time tucking himself small that Tsukishima sometimes forgets how much space he really occupies- how much of Tsukishima’s life is filled up with sharp elbows and knobby knees. 

”Sure,” he says, distracted by Yamaguchi’s pleased little French-fry grin. Cute. If only he was always that happy. It’s so sappy that Tsukishima wants to punch himself in the face. 

It’s stupid, it’s so stupid. He gives Kageyama a hard time for being dumb but here he is and Yamaguchi’s going to laugh- even if it works, he’s going to laugh, and if it doesn’t work he’ll have those big anxious eyes like he does when Tsukishima’s being especially stupid everyone else is too scared or done with him to say so. Fuck this. He’s leaving.

“I always liked that shirt on you,” Yamaguchi says idly, licking salt off his thumb. Tsukishima likes it too. It’s dark purple with white chalk stars all over it. Yamaguchi bought it for him when they all took the class trip to the Planetarium. He hadn’t got Yamaguchi anything. It hadn’t seemed important, at the time. 

Start acting like it.

Tsukishima takes a deep breath. 

Even when his fingers are moving, shoulders curved down to meet the keys, he shakes with it _cause I am changed by you_ and any time he’s stepping forward it’s because Yamaguchi is there too, not trailing behind but side by side confidence and talents, secrets and songs _the more I get to know you, the more I want you close to me._ Love is humiliating, shameful, secret and burdensome but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t. He’s here, he made his choice and it was Yamaguchi Yamaguchi Yamaguchi all along _I’ve been waiting for-_

Start acting like it. 

_please just say you’ll let me forever be whatever you need_

-And the music dies out and he can’t move, even a little, until Yamaguchi speaks and his whole body tenses, waiting waiting.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says with a shuddery little laugh he doesn’t mean, bag of fries forgotten on the floor next to his feet. “You can’t sing that at the fundraiser. Half the school is going to fall for you.” 

“Did you?” Tsukishima asks, voice raw. 

Yamaguchi’s eyes go wide and he sees Tsukishima- really _sees_ Tsukishima- sweating through his shirt, hair plastered to his flushed face, fingers still holding the keys in the last note to keep them from trembling. He cares. He cares so fucking much it makes him stupid and he’s doing it anyway. 

Tsukishima crosses the room counting steps one two three and Yamaguchi is standing and when they kiss it tastes like salt and french fries and _Yamaguchi_ and Tsukishima doesn’t think that’s stupid at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song is "Changed by You" by Spain. 
> 
> I have had this chapter in mind since the beginning, so I hope events set it up so that Sappy!shima doesn't come off too OOC. He hated every minute of his grand gesture.


	8. Hinata shines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet, grand finale.

Hinata has always sort of known that he has a lot of _feelings._

In third grade, he was so moved by the class play that he clapped and cheered mid-monologue- which would have been fine, if he wasn’t supposed to be a very still, very tiny tree at the time. Snow White had been so startled that she fell off the stage- the girls in the class had _not_ been pleased. In fifth grade, he was so distraught by the novel they were reading aloud that he burst into fitful, passionate tears. Koji and Izumi still hadn’t let him live that one down- thought, to be fair, they admitted they were also pretty sad when the dog died. He has his moments, okay, but they’re like the push and pull of waves- inevitably, the tide rises and emotion stirs and Hinata bursts forth, bright and irrepressible. 

Thing is, though? Hinata doesn’t really _do_ depressed.

He gets sad, sure (oh my god that _dog_ ) and frustrated? Definitely. Sometimes he loses his temper and he certainly doesn’t have much in terms of impulse control, but-

Despondent? 

Dismal? 

Melancholy? 

Nah. 

Which is why he accepts this thing- this Kageyama-Yamaguchi _thing_ that is happening to him. Well, not to him. Feels like it, though. They kissed and it sucks. It really sucks. Cause then Kageyama’s all frowny faced and Yamaguchi’s all tense and Tsukki’s being, like, _nice_ which is just bizarre and- 

Well, whatever. The point is, he’s not gonna get all hung up over it. Kageyama needs a friend and Hinata can totally do that. Friendship _is_ Hinata’s thing- though not in the freaky Oikawa kind of way. Maybe instead of being a Grand King, he’s like. A Duke. Baron Von Friendship. Or something. 

They’re the opening act for this extracurricular fundraiser thing, mostly because no one thinks they’re going to be any good. Tsukishima just smirks and pushes up his glasses and cranes his neck in that way that he does when he wants everyone else to feel super small and worthless and says that they’re going to regret doing that. Maybe so. They’re pretty good, and Yachi and Kinoshita have been working with the rest of the team on a little dance number to go along with each number and Hinata is going to get to jump real high in the middle of the last song, which is pretty exciting. Kageyama doesn’t have any rhythm, apparently, so he’s stuck waving a paper fan. Hinata kind of wants to laugh at him but is also hyper aware of how close Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are sitting and then he kind of doesn’t, anymore. He’s glad for them, really, it’s just. It seems a little unfair somehow. 

The stage is littered with wires and boxes- Hinata unwinds an extension cord and ducks underneath the drum kit Noya carries in, too many pieces at a time. He trips midway but Tanaka catches him one handed. 

“Nice receive!” Kinoshita calls from offstage. 

Yamaguchi tunes his guitar, stage left. 

“You’re off key,” Tsukishima points out nearby. 

Yamaguchi rolls his eyes. “Very helpful, Tsukki.” He’s smiling, though, a little sly sort of thing. 

Tsukishima presses a chord on his keyboard. Yamaguchi mimics it, adjusting the strings a bit. Tsukishima does it again. The third time, Yamaguchi breaks into a full, happy grin. 

“Oh, I know this one.” He strums along. 

Tanaka spins in his seat, giving a quick, experimental open drum roll before settling into the beat. Noya plugs his bass into the amp, wincing at the feedback and turning a knob all the way to right. 

Yachi sets up the mic stand in front of Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. She switches it on, red to green, and steps back with a quick thumbs up. When she turns to head off stage, she looks at Hinata and stops. Firmly, deliberately, she gives him a thumbs up, too. Her hands don’t shake and her smile is bright. Tsukki steps up to the mic. 

_And when my heart won’t break_

Ennoshita hits the switch and the house lights dim; the colorful projections swirl across the curtain- bright, certain, pointing the way. Voices, sweet and rough. Tsukishima’s words cut through the dark _living life with no need for the brakes - something happens when I lean on my mistakes._ In spotlight, Yamaguchi catches Hinata’s eye and jerks his head left with a quick wink. That way, he mouths. Green light go. Hinata goes. He plunges between the curtains, backstage past the first years warming up their dance moves, past Ennoshita at the control panel and he takes a little strength from them all as he goes, like he can hear them cheering him on, quiet but sure and _I come alive when I don’t even think._

When he finds Kageyama, tucked behind the set piece for the spring play, through an open fake french door, Hinata means to say something kind, something supportive. Something platonic, for sure. He means to, really. He doesn’t, though. It’s not his fault, really. He doesn’t know why Kageyama is hiding in the scene shop, gathering the slow frayed edges of his courage. He doesn’t know that the song carries, crisp and clear, and that Tsukishima’s voice is calling to more than one person. He doesn’t know what he looks like, when he bursts through the dark curtain, lights all caught in his hair and his eyes, a single bright focal point in Kageyama’s view. _Cause I’m a rational man_ Kageyama thinks, as he bends down and he kisses Hinata, back against the curtain and it’s the best thing he’s ever done because he likes Yamaguchi, sure as fuck, but Hinata-

_Love is mystical, do you feel the same?_

Hinata kisses _back._

Any maybe they will always be like this, bright eyed and young, giving it their all. Maybe things will get tough and they’ll change, chipping away at the things that make them here, us, now. Maybe one of them will break up next week or after graduation or be together always but they’re making that choice, the four of them, right now. They believe in the music, and they believe in each other and they are happy.

They’re happy. 

_Light in darkness will show you the way_  
_give you the power to believe again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is "Love is Mystical" by Cold War Kids. 
> 
> Thanks for playing.

**Author's Note:**

> Sporadic Updates, HMU in the comments.


End file.
